


you find someone to carry you

by obsidianlullaby



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Verse, Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers Family, Established Relationship, IN SPACE!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3581613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidianlullaby/pseuds/obsidianlullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve likes to think he’s a pretty smart guy but that doesn’t give him any idea what to do next. He hadn’t thought the whole thing through beyond the fundamentals; he’d had no idea what they were doing to Bucky, so the breakout had taken precedence over, really, any planning whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you find someone to carry you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [springsoldier (ladydaredevil)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydaredevil/gifts).



> Hi, springsoldier! Thank you for your lovely prompt set, and sorry for not getting this up earlier!
> 
> I don't know if you're familiar with or enjoy Joss Whedon's Firefly, but it seemed like a good starting place for a fic that suited most of your requests, and I'm hoping said fic stands well enough on its own. It was meant to follow the basic plot of the Firefly pilot episode, but that all went kind of askew anyway, thanks to Natasha. Basically, it's the Firefly universe and premise, but the characters are very much those of the Avengers.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Steve has money. Steve has _a lot_ of money. He’d always felt sort of strange about that--the primary goal of his art has always been creation, the secondary goal is activism, and money is _maybe_ tertiary, but when he sold his very first painting he was expecting to scrape by at best, not to become critically acclaimed and have galleries on three different planets seeking after him for exhibitions--but he knew he wouldn’t have even begun to be able to manage this if he didn’t have that sort of money, which…

Steve didn’t want to think about that.

Steve doesn’t _want_ to think much about their current situation, either. His best friend-cum-boyfriend is literally frozen and in a box in the cargo hold of this half-gone ship (which is _definitely_ used for smuggling, Steve was convinced even _before_ he met the crew; he wonders if the Shepherd knows), there is definitely a manhunt being conducted for them right this second, and Steve likes to think he’s a pretty smart guy but that doesn’t give him any idea what to do next. He hadn’t thought the whole thing through beyond the fundamentals; he’d had no idea what they were doing to Bucky, so the breakout had taken precedence over, really, any planning whatsoever.

Well, the point is, Steve has money, and he’s paying these people a _lot_ of it, way more than would be expected for a routine transport, so he kind of thought he’d bought their silence or something.

Not so.

“What’s in that crate you brought aboard?” the mechanic asks over dinner. “You seemed pretty worried about it. Something fragile in there?”

“Yes,” Steve replies, shortly, because he wants them to know not to treat his ‘cargo’ roughly, but he also doesn’t feel like making up a story to explain it right now. If he’s rude enough about it, he figures, everyone will get the idea not to ask and drop the subject, since this particular group of people doesn’t have any particular right to question him, he’s pretty sure.

The captain eyes Steve (with his only good one--the man has an actual eye patch, and a scar that implies said eyepatch isn’t just for show), but he doesn’t comment.

Steve thinks he’s in the clear.

Once again, he is wrong.

“What’s in it?” the pilot asks.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Steve grits out. “Just leave it alone.”

“Leave the box alone or leave the topic alone?” the mechanic asks.

“Both,” Steve says and pointedly returns to the meal.

“Aw, come on!”

“Tony,” the redhead chastises, “leave our passenger alone.”

“Aw, Nat, you spoil all my fun. Just curious, do you mean all the passengers? Or just the blonde one?”

Steve isn’t looking, but he gets a very strong sense that the woman--Natasha--is rolling her eyes. Tony apparently takes that as permission to begin enthusiastically bothering the Shepherd, who puts up with it like a champ and insists that everyone call him Bruce.

There’s one other guest on the ship, and Steve hasn’t heard him speak a single word. Steve thinks he catches said mysterious man staring at him when he abruptly feels sick (thinking too much, wondering too much, it does that to him) and looks up from his dish. The guy’s eyes slide quickly but easily away, though, and Steve figures he’s imagining things. The other likely option is that the guy thinks Steve is hot, which isn’t an unusual thing, but Steve’s spoken for and doesn’t really want to deal with that right now, of all things.

He thanks them for the meal and says he’s going to retire for the night.

“You remember where your room is?” the captain asks.

“Yes, thank you. Good night, everyone.”

The big blond one is kind of squinting at him, but they all nod or grunt or in some way communicate something approximating a farewell, and Steve leaves.

*

Steve does go back to his room. He does. He just ends up not staying there.

He’s staring at the crate containing Bucky, and this is a bad idea, someone could find him like this, and there’s no good way to explain it, and this isn’t exactly making Steve feel _better_ but--

“Who is he?” Natasha asks, and Steve had no idea whatsoever that she was there, but, to his credit, he doesn’t jump.

He does panic, but he doesn’t jump.

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy in the box,” she says, nodding to the crate. “You’re not a slaver, are you? I didn’t peg you as one, and I trust my gut, but I guess it’s not too far from the realm of possibility that I could be wrong.”

“You looked in it?” Steve says, trying to muster outrage to cover the terror, but he’s pretty sure he’s doomed either way.

“We aren’t all without enemies, here,” she says, crossing her arms. “It’s a big crate, and you’re an unknown. If it makes you feel better, I haven’t mentioned him to the others. What’s the deal?”

“You found a person in cryo inside a giant box, and you didn’t _mention_ it? To anyone?”

“Not even Clint, promise. I will if you don’t tell me something, though.”

Steve takes a deep, steadying breath. “He’s a friend.”

“Friend?” Natasha asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Boyfriend,” Steve admits. “Soulmate, actually.”

“Oh my god, you’re a sap.”

Steve smiles a tiny bit before going on, trying to decide what’s safe to say. “He was… being held. Hurt. I got him out, but--” Steve shifts a little “--they’re going to be looking for us. Had to fly under the radar.”

“You’re being vague. Intentionally. He was being held by the Alliance, wasn’t he?”

Steve swallows. He was hoping she wouldn’t put that together. “Are you going to turn us over to them? You don’t know what they’ll do to us, what they want--”

Natasha snorts, cutting Steve off mid-plea for compassion. “I have a decent idea. Probably better than you.”

“And you’re still going to just hand us over?” Steve asks, trying to think of what to do. He doesn’t think killing her would help the situation, and the idea that he _could_ kill her is, realistically speaking, probably wishful thinking.

But then she levels him with the sort of flat, unimpressed look that he’s never seen anyone but Bucky really manage. “I never said that. I’ve got a history of my own.” She paused. “Let’s just say, I’ve got an interest in making sure history doesn’t repeat itself.”

Steve knows there’s something of great weight going unsaid, but he thinks it’s working in his favor. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. By the way, Rumlow’s definitely a Fed--”

“ _What?_ ”

“--so be ready when things turn ugly. And…” She looks at the crate. “Don’t be surprised, if he’s different. When you open that up.”

She flicks her hand in a wave and disappears, leaving Steve with a dozen new questions and a great sense of appreciation for strong women.

*

Rumlow, it turns out, is the other passenger, he _was_ staring, and he’s very definitely with the Alliance.

“Shit,” Steve is saying. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“That was so cool,” the pilot, Clint, is saying to the embarrassed Shepherd as Tony, the mechanic, lies on the floor saying “hello, I’ve been _shot_ , someone take care of me” and Thor, whose role Steve was unsure of but now he’s pretty sure the guy’s just their extremely endearing muscle, is looking worriedly for a bullet hole until Natasha huffs and explains that Tony was simply grazed and he’s being a diva, and Steve lets out a soft sigh of relief because Tony’s a tool but that would have weighed pretty heavy on his conscience, and Clint is saying, “You, like, went total kung fu on his ass!”

They all seem pretty unfazed by Bucky, really, which is weird. Captain Fury’s turning to look between him and Steve appraisingly, but that’s it. Naked man with a metal arm gets snuck onto their ship, no one cares. Okay.

Bucky himself is less okay. He looks completely calm, but it’s not calm because Steve knows calm on Bucky, calm on Bucky isn’t flat, isn’t _blank_ , but that’s what this is.

“I expect an explanation when the mess has died down, Rogers,” Fury says, which is sort of interesting because Steve didn’t think the man knew his name, but he doesn’t obstruct Steve from going to Bucky and pulling him into a hug.

Bucky’s tense at first, but Steve is a great hugger, so he relaxes after a second. “Steve?” he whispers, like the name is foreign to his tongue.

“Yeah, I got you, Buck.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come for me.”

Steve pulls back, a little stung, but Bucky’s been through a lot and some trust issues are probably reasonable. “Well, you’re a jerk.”

Bucky nods. “I think I’m going to need a lot of help.”

“You’ll have it,” Natasha assures him before Steve can because she’s a ninja, apparently. “Natasha, hi, nice to meet you; we’ll do introductions with all the jackasses later. I just wanted to let you know--let you _both_ know that you’re safe here. With us. If you want to leave, we won’t stop you, but, you know, it’d be stupid.”

“The captain agrees?” Steve asks, surprised.

“He will, or I’ll mutiny, and then I’ll be the captain, and I always agree with myself,” Natasha says, very seriously.

Bucky looks confused. “Who are you people?”

“I’m wondering that too,” Bruce the Shepherd, who has been weirdly cool with everything, chimes in. Because apparently they’re all _eavesdroppers_. Steve refuses to grant that it’s hard not to hear things when you’re all close together in a cargo hold with annoyingly good acoustics because he’s pretty sure they all could have left by now.

“We’re the resistance,” Tony says.

“We call ourselves _The Avengers_ ,” Clint adds.

“Please, we’re petty criminals who just like to shoot things too much,” Natasha says.

Tony scowls. “We’re psyching up for the resisting part. It’s in the works.” 

“Come on, Nat, you’re ruining the vibe,” Clint says.

“We do call ourselves The Avengers,” Natasha concedes. “But mostly because we’re a bunch assholes. Except for Thor.”

Thor beams, and Steve reluctantly admits to himself that he could be quite taken with these people.

*

Bruce never offers an explanation, but stays on as part of the crew, and he teaches Steve how to fight. Natasha and Bucky spar next to them every day, and when Steve watches them he wonders what happened to his best friend to turn him into this living weapon, but he never asks.

When Bucky screams them both awake, Steve kisses him and holds him until his breathing evens back out.


End file.
